Try Me On
by StBridget
Summary: Nick's straight, but Greg convinces him to go out on a date anyway. Nick/Greg preslash.


**Disclaimer: CSI is property of CBS.**

"Hey, Nick, would you like to go out with me this weekend?"

Nick spit coffee all over the break room table. He did not just hear that. Greg Sanders did not just ask him out. "What?"

"I said," Greg repeated, "Would you like to go out with me this weekend?"

Nick stared at him, open-mouthed. "Would I _what?_"

Greg sighed. "How many times to I have to repeat myself? Would you like to go out with me this weekend? It's a simple yes or no question."

Words failed Nick. Never, ever, in his wildest dreams had Nick imagined Greg asking him out, let alone in the break room at work. Never, ever, in his wildest dreams had Nick imagined Greg, period. "I'm straight," was the best he could come up with.

"Are you sure?" Greg countered.

He was not having this conversation. Not at work, not anywhere. "Pretty sure, Greg."

"How do you know?" Greg persisted. "I mean, have you ever even gone out with a guy?"

Nick was starting to feel trapped. "No..."

"Then how can you be sure?"

There was no good way out of this. Nick could tell. "I just am," he finished weakly.

"But you can't know unless you've tried it," Greg insisted. "I mean, you try shirts on, right?"

Nick wasn't sure where this was going. "Yes. . ."

"Haven't you ever seen a shirt in the store that you were sure wouldn't fit, was totally not you, and the salesgirl or your friend or somebody convinced you to try it on and it fit after all and looked totally fabulous?"

"Yes, but that's _shirts_, Greg. We're talking about dating."

"Why shouldn't the same principle apply? If I was a girl, would you turn me down flat without at least seeing if there was something there?"

Nick sighed. "I suppose not."

"So, pretend I'm a shirt. I'm not asking you to buy. Just try me on. Please."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Go out with me," Greg said. "One date, that's all I ask. And if you don't like it, that's the end of it, and we go back to the way things were. No harm, no foul."

Nick drew his arm over his face, trying to stave off the headache he could feel coming on. "Fine, one date."

Greg beamed. "Terrific! I promise, you won't regret it!"

"I already do," Nick muttered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nick looked in the mirror, critically examining what had to be at least his sixth outfit of the night. His bed looked like one of his sisters' before a date. He'd settled on black jeans, formfitting but not too tight, rejecting dress slacks and faded denim. He was still searching for the perfect shirt, though. Why did he care so much, anyway? It wasn't like anything was going to happen. It wasn't like he even _wanted_ anything to happen. He was just doing this to humor Greg. Still, Nick knew if he didn't at least try to take this seriously, Greg would never leave him be.

Nick settled on a short-sleeved, dark green button-up shirt just as the doorbell rang. "Here goes nothing," he muttered as he went to answer it. "Hey, Greg."

"Hey." Nick couldn't help but stare at Greg's outfit. Greg obviously wasn't concerned about his pants being too tight—his jeans, also black, were practically painted on. His red button-up shirt hugged his body just right, and the top two buttons were open, revealing just a hint of toned chest. Greg looked _hot_. Wait, where did that come from? Nick had never thought of Greg, or any other guy for that matter, as hot. "Ready to go?" Greg asked, breaking into Nick's thoughts.

Nick followed Greg out to the car. "Yeah, where are we going?"

"I made reservations at the Carving Knife, then I figured we could hit this club I know. Sound okay?"

"Sounds good to me," Nick replied. "The Carving Knife has the best steaks in town. How'd you know it was my favorite?"

Greg grinned. "I figured it was hard to go wrong giving a Texan a big hunk of meat." Nick thought he caught just a hint of suggestiveness is Greg's tone, but he could have imagined it.

They reached the restaurant, and the hostess led them to a candlelit table for two in the back. It screamed romance, and Nick had to fight to keep from freaking out. Greg seemed to sense his unease and requested a brighter-lit table in the front.

They gave their orders, and Nick fidgeted with his napkin. What should he say? What should he do? This was new territory to him, and he was completely lost.

"This place is great, but my absolute favorite is Harris Ranch. It's this place in the middle of nowhere in Central California. They raise their own beef, and it's fantastic." Once again, Greg seemed to sense his unease and took the lead.

Nick started to relax. "Mine's the Branding Iron in Dallas. The walls are decorated with the brands of local ranches, and their steaks are to die for."

Conversation flowed easily from there, and Nick enjoyed hearing Greg talk about himself, and found himself opening up more than he ever would of imagined. He and Greg hung out, sure, and they talked, but usually about work, or sports, or video games. Nick found himself enjoying getting to know Greg on a deeper level.

Once the steaks were consumed, Greg leaned back contentedly in his chair. "So, I thought we could hit this club I know, or we could just call it off right now if you want." Greg looked suddenly nervous, and Nick felt guilty that he was causing it.

"It's not one of those death metal places, is it?" He asked, his voice slightly teasing.

Greg seemed to relax just a hair. "No, it's just a club. Not a gay club, either," he hastened to add. "Just a club where everyone dances with everyone, and it's not country, or metal, or anything. Just pop, mostly."

Nick thought hard. Greg had given him an out, and he certainly didn't want to lead Greg on, but he was having a good time. Yeah, there was a definite datish feel to it, but Nick found he didn't mind. "Sounds good."

Greg fully relaxed and grinned. "Great."

Greg was right. The club was just a club. Crowded, but not too crowded. Dark, but not too dark. Loud, but not too loud, and despite Greg's reassurance, Nick was relieved to find that the music was, indeed, just pop.

Cozy, intimate booths lined the back, and Nick expected Greg to head for one of those, but he surprised Nick by heading for the bar. "Two beers," he said, looking at Nick for confirmation.

Nick nodded, then surprised himself by saying "There's an empty booth. I'm going to go grab it."

Greg looked surprised, too, but quickly recovered, grabbing the beers and following Nick. Once they were settled, Nick took a sip of his beer. "So, you come here often?"

"Sometimes," Greg replied. "It's nice when I just want to be mellow. It's not a meat market, and I can just dance, even if I don't have a partner."

Nick glanced at the dance floor and saw that Greg was right. People were dancing, singly, in couples, and in groups. Men were dancing with women, women were dancing with women, and men were dancing with men, and it didn't seem to matter.

They sipped their beers in companionably silence until Greg stood up. "Dance with me."

Once again, Nick had to fight back a wave of panic, but then he realized he wasn't totally opposed to the idea. "Yeah, okay."

He followed Greg out to the floor, and they began moving to the music. Greg was close, but not too close, and Nick felt a sudden urge to close the space between them. He had just taken a step forward when someone jostled his arm and looked around to see a pretty brunette.

"Oops, sorry," she giggled. "Hey, are you dancing with anyone?"

He glanced at Greg, who shrugged, clearly giving him an out, and glanced at the woman. She _was_ pretty—short, but not too short, a nice body accented by a black halter top, tight black jeans emphasizing long legs. He was tempted, but only for a moment. "Yeah, we're dancing," he said, surprising himself by closing the distance to stand behind Greg, putting his hands possessively on Greg's hips."

"You're welcome to join us, though," Greg added, still leaving Nick that out. Nick found he didn't want to take, it though.

"Sure," she said, and turned to signal her friends. Soon, they were dancing in a group. Nick dropped his hands from Greg's hips, but found himself reluctant to move away.

A slow song came on, and Greg turned to Nick. "Dance with me?" It came out as a question this time, not an order.

"I'd like that," Nick replied, to his—and Greg's—surprise. He put his hands on Greg's hips again, and Greg wrapped his arms around Nick's neck, tight, but not too tight.

Nick was surprised by how good Greg felt in his arms. He pulled Greg a little closer, feeling Greg melt against him. Nick closed his eyes, just enjoying the sensations. He felt Greg's lips brush his, tentatively, and without thinking, he instinctively kissed back. Greg's tongue nudged at his lips, and he opened them, feeling Greg's tongue slide along his, and found he really liked the sensation. He knew it was Greg, knew it definitely wasn't a woman, but in that moment, he didn't care. In fact, he found himself wanting more.

Then it was over. Somebody jostled against them, muttering "Get a room," and they broke apart.

Greg grinned. "That's not a bad idea you know." Seeing the look of panic flash over Nick's face, he hastily said "Hey, just kidding."

Nick relaxed yet again. "Sorry. Didn't mean to freak."

"Listen, why don't we finish our beers, and I'll take you home, and we can call it a night."

Nick's face fell, much to his astonishment. Greg noticed. "Or we can go back to my place for coffee."

It was Nick's turn to grin. "Coffee sounds great."

They drove back to Nick's place, and Greg broke out the Blue Hawaiian. He poured two steaming cups and set them down on the coffee table. "Okay, date's officially over. You're free to leave at any time."

Nick reached for one of the cups and breathed in the enticing fragrance, catching just a whiff of another enticing fragrance emanating from Greg. "What if I don't want to leave?"

"Do you?"

Nick set his cup down and leaned back against the sofa, motioning for Greg to sit next to him. Nick stretched his arm across the back of the sofa, brushing Greg's shoulder. "Nah, not ready yet."

Greg looked at the arm that was almost, but not quite, around him. "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I did what you asked. I tried you on."

"And?" Greg prompted, searching Nick's face for some hint of what he was thinking.

Nick leaned forward, pressing his lips against Greg's. "I think you fit."


End file.
